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- 12331
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.846Z
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- 12306
- text
- his decanters, and deferentially pushed them over toward the sailors,
as much as to say—_“Honorable gentlemen, it is not for me to allowance
your liquor;—help yourselves, your honors.”_
And so they did; each glass a bumper; and standing in a row, tossed
them all off; shook hands all round, three times three; and then
disappeared in couples, through the several doorways; for _“The
Flashes”_ was on a corner.
If to every one, life be made up of farewells and greetings, and a
_“Good-by, God bless you,”_ is heard for every _“How d’ye do, welcome,
my boy”—_then, of all men, sailors shake the most hands, and wave the
most hats. They are here and then they are there; ever shifting
themselves, they shift among the shifting: and like rootless sea-weed,
are tossed to and fro.
As, after shaking our hands, our shipmates departed, Harry and I stood
on the corner awhile, till we saw the last man disappear.
“They are gone,” said I.
“Thank heaven!” said Harry.
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